His Best Shot

by Brad Rose

Tom’s out of rehab. People say he’s a lot handsomer than he looks. When I tell him this, he grimaces and says it must be a case of mistaken identity. We get in the truck, and drive out of town. August is jilted and useless. When we drive past the lonely remains of a scarecrow slumped in Burdick’s dust-drowned field, Tom leans out the window, points his pistol, and yells, I hate to have to use this thing, but you bastards leave me no choice.

6S

Brad Rose's latest book is I Wouldn’t Say That, Exactly.